Sometimes, I feel like I’m a pseudo-intellectual, and not quite up to pondering the heavy philosophical stuff. I expect a lot out of myself when
it comes to constructing thoughts and concepts. There are times when I do not communicate effectively, when I just ’shut’ down and stammer all over myself.  There are times I doubt if I have any abilities, and there are times when I rage at myself because of the hurt that my thoughtless actions have caused others.

I still have a moderate/severe fear of crowds, l have debilitating panic attacks and still pull out my hair on occasion.   I wake up (this is a rare
occurance now) from nightmares no woman one should have.

Yet, with all my weaknesses, I can turn them into strengths by using them to reach out and relate to others.  Maybe my purpose in life is to share my problems, to let people know they don’t have to “go it” alone.  I’ve been searching for a purpose ever since I can remember, although I remained unaware of it for a long time.

Maybe, if I help others, I will find some peace of mind in return. What does this mean?  I’m not positive.  Perhaps I’ll end up as a nun or a licensed counselor. (I think it’s possible to be both, actually.)  I wouldn’t mind being a mom if the right man came along, but it all depends on which way I’m being directed to.